


What We Don't Expect

by Jeneva



Category: Hellboy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/F, F/M, M/M, Norwegian Mythology & Folklore, Other, Sex, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-14 03:44:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeneva/pseuds/Jeneva
Summary: Nearly a thousand years since the truce between the magical world and humans, an exiled prince begins his return to power. Having waited and witnessed the rise of humans and the fall of natural world, Prince Nuada seeks out what will give him the power to subdue the humans and put them back into their place. He seeks to restore balance. He seeks to bring peace. He does not expect the impact of a single human on his plans. Nor can he foresee the turn in events she brings.





	1. Chapter 1

_March, circa 238, Common Era_

_Norseland_

* * *

 

It was a cold spring morning in the valley. With the sun still tucked behind the eastern hills, the forest air was kept cool and damp. Mist clung to the ground, rolling over fallen trees and threading through moss. In the early hours of the morning, birds called distantly through the high branches, signaling the slow creep of the sun in the sky.

A lone figure picked through the ferns and ground cover. Dressed in thick rabbit furs and rough-spun wool for the chilly early morning, the hunter traversed the forest with bow in hand. With the last snow melt the high hills had been made passable to hunt and reindeer hide boots muffled each step. But restocking the dwindling stores at home wasn’t the hunter’s only goal. Too many weeks had been spent in town kept pent up under thick mossed roofs and smoky hearths. The fresh air banished the tar from the lungs and invigorated the flesh. It was like flying.

That feeling of euphoria was likely what carried the lone hunter so far up the hills. It wasn’t wise to go so far alone, but the higher the hill, the closer to the sun. And who could resist that?

A twig snapped, and the hunter sunk to the ground. Through the gap in some ferns, the shape of a red deer ambled between the trees. Too far to shoot. Time to move closer. Slowly, the hunter wound through the forest and over the sharp slate-stone after the deer. Perhaps too over eager, the hunter’s movements rushed and caught the attention of the creature. Nearly half an hour of stalking was for naught as the deer bounded away into the mists.

Sigyn cursed with a smile. She wasn’t as irritated as she might have been. In all truth, killing the deer would mean an end to her tryst into the hills. She wasn’t ready to surrender her time in the clean air quite yet, even if her family would be cross at her late return. They could wait a few hours more. So, she climbed, higher and higher up the slippery rock and lichen until the trees became swallowed in the low clouds that over took the valley peaks. Her skin and air caught tiny silver droplets as she stood in the cloud. It moved slowly, like a phantom caress, barely felt beyond the dampness and tickle along the hairs of her arms. Sigyn often wondered at this place where the skies met the earth. Two lovers joining in secret, only to part with the rising of the sun. This was the place of magic and gods and she stood at the border.

The magic could not last. Already, the humid hair began to heat as the sun crested the mountains. All too soon, the clouds dispersed and gave way to the crisp outline of the trees and stone. Just beyond and down the hill, Sigyn could see the glint off the Yorlmul river and the smoke of the village homes. This was the place of the gods, looking down upon the valley.

A sound caught her attention. Sigyn turned and listened to the quiet. Again. It sounded like someone cutting wood. But the strikes were two few in between and sounded disjointed. Besides, who would cut wood this high up? Sigyn sunk to the spongey ground and looped her bow over her back. The condensed water had seeped through the seams of her boots and chilled her feet. Unconcerned, she began to crawl across the forest floor again, eyes trained ahead on the place where the sound was coming from. Not and axe, perhaps a sword?

Slowly, she worked her way behind a large boulder. Whoever was making the sound was on the other side. But Sigyn couldn’t tell where the person was facing. The sounds of the wood being cut moved around. Swallowing, she eyed the incline up hill. If she could work her way up and under some of the ferns she could look without being spotted. Plan in motion, she began to move. Whoever was on the other side of the boulder was breathing heavy now and punctuated each strike with a grunt of effort. Practice. As Sigyn crested the incline she pulled her bow to her waist and wiggled under the ferns.

By the gods, she thought when she could see. There was a clearing below, not the width of a house, but punctuated by abused pillars of wood. Each log bore heavy cuts and gashes. One was nearly split in two. Never had she seen such a place on the hill. But it wasn’t the strangeness of the clearing that held her attention, it was the being in the center.

She had long believed the hills to be the realm of gods and for a moment she was sure she was seeing one before her. Flesh like rutilated quartz and white hair. He looked completely out of place amongst the lush greens and browns of the forest. Like a patch of snow that refused to melt. In the center of the clearing he continued to move, brandishing a long spear savagely against the positioned logs. Slice, cut, stab, he pierced one trunk clear through and without missing a beat, turned and cut a corner off another. Stealth forgotten, Sigyn watched with wide eyes as he continued to spin and strike. It was mesmerizing and wiped all thought out of her mind.

Her perch had placed her on a slippery bit of tumbled rock, the remnants of a long-forgotten rockslide. The wet air had made the stone slippery and, in her attempt, to get a better view under the ferns, her foot slipped. She caught herself without so much as a breath, but panic filled her as she heard the clatter of the rock she knocked loose. It fell, bouncing loudly against every hard surface it could find before coming to rest in the soft greenery below. Sigyn watched the rock fall away with huge eyes as her heart hammered in her ears. But nothing happened. Her perch was steady still, and she turned back to the clearing.

He was gone! Confused, Sigyn wiggled a little further under the ferns to try and see if he had moved out of sight or to the side. Only the abused logs stood in the hardpacked earth there. Where had he gone?

Something hard seized her ankle and yanked. With a cry, Sigyn found herself wrenched out from her spying place and tumbling down the incline like that traitorous stone had. It hurt, although most of her furs absorbed the sharp edges of the rocks, her bones ached were exposed and finally hitting the trunk of a large pine was a mercy. Her relief was short lived however, for as she pushed herself up she saw the silver tip of the spear sweep up towards her head. It missed by a bare second as she ducked and rolled, unsheathing her own short sword. In the spinning of the fall and the aches of her body, she had a hard time finding purchase to stand. Her attacker seemed to dance around her. Only the whistling of the spear warned her to duck or parry. At one point she felt the air whip by her nose as she fell back to avoid a high cut.

Now she could see him. He moved with the same ferocity and control as she had witnessed; stepping and retreating like a bird. He was without a shirt, but there was no way for him to hide in the forest. His dark pants and red sash clashed so vividly against the world around them.

Finding herself facing her attacker, Sigyn felt ready to act. She had seen him practice, but he had not seen her fight. She rolled, escaping a vicious stab into the earth, and rolled as far away as she could. Putting distance between them was risky, but if she could get her bow out—

He had followed, and it was only her quick reflexes that saved her from losing an arm. But his swipe had brought him very close and Sigyn changed tactics. With his spear still cutting through the air between her bow and bowstring, she threw herself into him and twisted her weapon around his arm. As he stumbled, caught off guard by her move, she stuck her leg between his and twisted, pull both spear and arm across her front while tripping his leg. The action forced him to let go of the spear with his other hand to attempt to catch himself, but Sigyn did not stop as she threw him head over heels. A great rush of air escaped him as he fell on his back and she saw his eyes go wide at the impact. They were solid amber.

Still moving, Sigyn launched herself at him, seizing the hand that still held the spear and wrapping her legs over his shoulder and around his neck. His free had clawed at her boots and leg, desperate to breathe as she fought for his weapon. He was strong, but still flesh. She could win.

It was a surprise to get kicked in the face. Somehow, he managed to roll himself over her legs and knock her across the nose. A tangle of limbs, the continued to roll with his momentum until they ended up in the clearing and separated. Sigyn continued to roll away, hoping to doge any more kicks before attempting to get up. Her nose hurt, and tears blurred her eyes as she pushed herself up out of the dirt. But an unfamiliar metal was under her hand. She had it!

He recovered quickly enough, coughing as he got to his hands and knees. Cold metal met the side of his neck, following the line of his jaw to poke at the soft flesh under his chin. The man froze, chest heaving and eyes wide. Above him, Sigyn stood, blood flowing from her nose and down her mouth. As the man turned to look up, he was met by her wild appearance. Hood tossed back, her eyes were so wide he could see all of the whites. Sticks and leaves clung to her tightly plaited hair and the blood that marred her face began to drip down onto her clothes.

* * *

They remained positioned like statues, still aside from the rustling of the wind against their clothes. The man eyed her for a moment longer before slowly, very slowly, raising his hand. She still had him fists and knees deep into the dirt, and he was careful with each movement so as not to startle her into striking. Taking his raised hand as a sign of defeat, she pressed the flat of the spear head under his chin briefly before stepping back. The man coughed once more and pushed himself to his knees, then to his full height, keenly aware that his own weapon was pointed at his head the entire time. Still moving slowly, he turned to face her to see her better and, in turn, let her see him.

Human. He had seen them on the mountain before. Hunting or foraging. A curiosity at best, the prince could not admit to a particular fondness for them. They were rather smelly creatures, with no magic and little knowledge. A newer species and so short lived, it had taken them millennia to even master basic iron-works. In fact, the last human he remembered seeing was barely functioning with stones and sticks.

This human was different. Covered in furs for the cold air, he could see the broach at her shoulder made of polished metal and intricate designs. Underneath the pelts was leather and coarse cloth. Her boots were wrapped in leather strings but nicely made. And, although ruined in their fight, he could see her hair had been carefully braided tight against the sides of her head.

And she had disarmed him. Nuada could hardly admit it to himself. Pure luck on the human’s part. He had not been expecting much of a fight. But as he remembered the moment the tide of the battle turned, he had to admit it had been a clever move. He had been prepared to have an arrow shot at him, not to be caught up by the bow itself.

But this could not stand. He was prince and to have such a lowly creature touch his spear, let alone _defeat_ him, was unquestionable. Immediately, he began looking for openings at which to strike. Something quick.

Then she said something, utterly distracting him from his planning. He did not understand her words at all, but they reminded him of the tongue of the northern giants. She repeated her words when he did not answer and jabbed the spear a little at him. Nuada lunged forward, catching the weapon just under the spear head, and yanked hard. The pull sent her tumbling forward, straight into him as he pulled the spear out of her grasp. Once in his hands he retracted the arm of the blade better suited for close combat as he grasped her by the collar of her cloak. Now it was his turn. Having caught both cloth and hair in his grip, he pulled her back enough to look her in the eye as he pressed the spear against her cheek.

“What do you think you are doing, human?” His tone was far less angry than it should have been. Like any of his kind, he was curious. Curious about the broach, the coarse blue cloth, her. Using the grip on her head he turned her back and forth, catching a glimpse of little metal beads woven into the plaits on her head and down the ends. He had wonder what had pelted him during their tumble. The craftsmanship was simple, but he could see the resemblance to branches and knots. Yes, this human was a step up from the others he had seen.

She grimaced and spat at him. Shocked, Nuada blinked as the bloody spray his face. He could taste the metallic tang on his tongue and it almost made him want to lick his lips. Princely pride quashed the urge and soon he was back to brandishing the blade to her face in warning. This human had no idea who she had insulted!

Just as he decided to teach the human a lesson, there was a strange stilling to the forest. Where the birds had been chirping, welcoming the sun, there was silence. Even the wind had died. He noticed first, pausing in carving his blade into the soft flesh of the human to listen. She caught on quickly enough and looked around as much as she could. It was such an overwhelming silence that it made goosebumps raise along the prince’s skin.

Without much preamble, he released the human to step further into the center of the clearing. Such an unnatural silence heralded something beyond the wilds. Behind him, the human stood, rubbing her head and a small axe in hand. She did not raise it to him and so he continued to peer into the forest, waiting for what was lurking there.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a soft sound behind him and he turned. A great beast was emerging from the edge of the clearing. Its fur was oily and matted, but underneath the grime and moss growing on its back the prince could see it was a Great Bear. Of the magical realm, such a creature was universally regarded with fearful respect. No crown or lineage could spare a victim, for it sought flesh to fill its empty belly. Nuada cursed under his breath as the great snarling beast lumbered closer. With a winter thaw this high up the mountain it was likely that the creature had just woken. It would be ravenous. Even if he could outrun the human, the thing would give chase until it had gorged itself fully.

The human! Nuada kept an eye on the beast as he observed the human out of his peripheral. She had a determined look on her bloody face, a hatchet he had not seen before grasped in hand. She was slowly edging backwards. This was not a stupid human. She wasn’t going to try and fight the thing. But Nuada could see that they were in a bad position. If he moved, the beast would kill her instantly and chase him. If she moved, well, that might by him another moment. But the Seior Gate was further up the mountain, behind the bear. He would be at the disadvantage.

By now the human had retreated to be in line with him. He could see her eyes twitch as if she wanted to look at him, but she dared not break eye contact with the bear. Nuada felt the wood of her hatchet handle tap his elbow. For the barest of moments, he looked to the side. The edge of the ridge. Of course!

As the bear gained ground, both human and elf made slow progress to the edge of the clearing, slipping behind the wooden dummies and out again without ever looking away from the creature. Once they reached the tree line, it would be a matter of mere seconds to break through to the ridge and below that, the unknown.

When they finally broke and ran, Nuada cast aside the idea of tripping the human. She outstripped him instantly, clearly at home in this terrain, while he, the foreigner. Behind them, the bear roared like thunder. The sound of felling trees pursued them, egging them faster towards a plummet that may be just as deadly as those claws. The edge drew nearer and nearer, and for perhaps the first time, Nuada felt panic take hold deep in his chest.

* * *

The River Brunn cut sharply through the spines of the great mountains. Some miles down it emptied in to a great fjord. As it was so close to the sea, the Brunn was deep and dark and very cold.

The impact of the water had knocked Sigyn unconscious. She was not sure how long she floated there, waiting for her wits to take hold again. Under the water’s surface, she felt herself gently being pulled along, as if by many hands. It carried her along for some way before Sigyn stirred. With a violent effort, she clawed her way up and broke the surface.

The river had carried her a great way from where she had jumped. They had already past the Great Hermit rock and had entered the hairpin bend in the river. The village was nowhere to be seen, as far upriver as it was. Weighed down by her clothes, Sigyn worked hard to keep her head above the water. She could have swum ashore, but she was waiting for the strange man who had jumped off the mountain with her.

Perhaps he had melted, she thought as she began to drift closer to the pebble beach. Perhaps his snowy skin had dissolved in the water and he would only be reborn again when the winter came. As Sigyn slid and stumbled up the rocky shore, she felt the weight of her soaked clothes pull her down. Exhaustion seared her muscles and she felt every bruise and cut keenly. Working as quickly as possible with her numbed fingers, she shed layer after layer until she could feel the sun on her skin. Once she was freed, she climbed a large rock and looked out across the water. Whatever being that man was, he had to have fallen into the river.

As the sun rose higher and grew hotter, Sigyn became more worried. Had he floated by already? Had he sunk to the bottom? She could see no sign of him. Agitated, Sigyn left the rock and moved around the sharp bend of the river to peer downstream.

There! Relief flooded her chest when she saw a body slumped over a log that had been pinned against the rocks. The red of his sash continued to float in the water like a great stream of blood. As quickly as she could, Sigyn waded into the river and pulled herself along the log. He seemed dead for how still he was. All across the pale expanse of his back were delicate, winding scars. When her fingers first brushed against the raised patterns, she flinched away. Never had she seen skin hold a mark like that.

But was he breathing! She sucked in a breath and hauled herself up onto the log. Slowly, she reached around and cupped his neck. Alive? She thought he might be. Although he was not far from the shore, the log was far enough out to make it too deep to walk the bottom. Sigyn fished out the red sash and began to wind it around his chest and shoulders, securing him to her so she could use to her hands to pull them along. It was awkward and a clumsy affair. She nearly lost hold of the tree when his weight pulled her hard into the river. But ashore they came at last.

By the gods, she thought as she rolled him on his back. He was covered in those tiny lines! A particularly deep gouge was cut across his nose and cheeks. It looks so perfect that she wondered if he had been a wound or decoration? She had seen the tattoos of the warriors, but this was so different. Shallow lines, completely separate from the designs, appeared every so often across his flesh. It reminded Sigyn of the way driftwood cracks. She itched to touch them again and feel the cut crease lines.

His skin was strange for other reasons. It was ashy in color everywhere but around his mouth and eyes. The skin there was stained amber and black. Again, she thought of the grey driftwood and the way it would burn when held to a flame. His hair was also colored in this way, with the roots being the lightest and ending in a warm amber tone.

When he coughed, it startled her badly enough that she fell on her backside. He was coming to. Sigyn watched, frozen in place, as he coughed again and opened his eyes. A moment passed as he oriented himself and just a moment more before he had turned those eerie eyes on her.

* * *

 

It was midday when Sigyn returned to the village. Stripped down to her shirt and breeches, she had slung her sodden cloak and clothes over her back. She returned with no catch, no bow, and a nasty bruise along the side of her face. Yet even the disappointment of a failed hunt could not spoil her mood. She had met a creature of myth and survived a Great Bear. To be plain, Sigyn was delighted.

“Sigyn!” Her mother came bursting out of the timber house, drying her hands and eyes wide with worry. Some of the village children had run ahead when Sigyn returned, not doubt spouting exaggerated descriptions of her as they went. Sigyn smiled as her mother hurried to her, only winced when the woman cupped her bruised cheek a little too hard.

“Hello mother, I’m sorry, but I have nothing from the mountain.”

Her mother was much less articulate as she looked over her daughter. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish a few times as she examined the ruined clothes, the bare feet, the utter lack of her bow. Anger and worry flew out of her at once and Sigyn was quickly pushed inside the house under a barrage of scolding. Birgit not a harsh woman by nature, and so even under her veil of excitement, Sigyn felt her ears burning.

“By the Gods what has happened? Why are you soaked and without both game and bow?” Sigyn dropped her wad of clothes on the worn wood floor and set about rubbing her sore feet. The heat from the morning fire was welcome, even if it left the main room of the house smoky.

“Mama I…” She paused. Should she mention the bear? As it stood, her parents were not fond of her hunting in the woods as it was. But hunting game was cheaper that buying and her father was not as active as he used to be. If Sigyn told her parents about the bear, she was sure she would not see the mountain again. And she _needed_ to go to the mountain again.

“I was walking along the river and fell in. I lost my bow.” The lie was sticky on her tongue and she hated it.

Her mother stared at her. “You… fell in?” Sigyn nodded and was promptly smacked on the back of the head, right on the knob that had formed when she had been fighting.

“You stupid girl! I will not be giving you coin for a new bow.”

“Yes Mama.”

“And I will not be washing those clothes!”

“Yes Mama.”

“And,” Sigyn stiffened as her mother’s finger came up right under her nose. “You will explain to your father why you came home as such.”

Sigyn swallowed. “Yes Mama.”

The villagers, once they heard that it was merely Sigyn’s clumsiness that had left her in such a state, came to find it funny. As she stood outside beating the damp out of her cloak, neighbors and her parent’s friends would pass by and offer a little teasing advice on walking. For example, putting one foot in front of the other, watching where you go, knowing the difference between solid ground and water. Sigyn bore it all with a smile. It was not as embarrassing when she knew the truth of the matter.

She did not, however, relish the thought of repeating the lie again when her father returned home. He had been doing business in Fiska and would be back later that day. His temper was more explosive than her mothers, though it burned through quickly. Still, it gave her a queasy feeling as the day progressed.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews help me make things better. Feel free to add a comment. Inappropriate comments are always removed.


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